


the importance of the written word

by earlymorningechoes



Series: nataliya lavellan: trying to bloom in snow [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cuddling, F/F, dyslexic character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 01:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7487670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlymorningechoes/pseuds/earlymorningechoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you find reading as impossible as she does, people are bound to notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the importance of the written word

    Josie loves to read. Nataliya can’t understand it, had in fact somewhat forgotten that there were people who read for pleasure. But the bookshelves in her quarters are getting some use, and her heart swells whenever she sees the pile of novels left on her nightstand when Josie spends the night.

    One night, cuddling on the sofa in front of the fire, comfortable and safe in a way Nataliya has no comparison for, Josephine looks up at her, eyes wide and shining, and asks, “May I read to you?” She holds up a novel - one of Varric’s newest, which everyone else at Skyhold has been talking about nonstop for the past few weeks, and gives a blatantly pleading look that Nataliya finds it impossible to say no to.

    She’s used to getting read to - when you find reading as impossible as she does, people notice. So a Tranquil helps her with reports, letting her dictate as well, but she’s still never been one for novels, because no one’s ever had the time to sit and read them to her. She nods at Josie, unable to find words to express what the simple gesture means to her.

    They shift around on the couch to find a better position for Josephine to hold the book in the flickering light of the fire and candles. When they settle, Josie mostly in her lap, Nataliya thinks for a moment on how different they appear - where Josephine is soft and warm, with no sharpness anywhere, she is cold and angular, all bony elbows and knocking knees and winter magic. But they fit like puzzle pieces, warm and cool and sharp and soft, her edges all less painful when she holds her girlfriend in her arms.

    Josephine opens the book to the beginning, and the words swim on the page for Nataliya just like they always do, but she closes her eyes and Josie’s musical voice drapes over her, telling an entirely unrealistic but wholly entertaining story of intrigue in a city that sounds very much like an inflated version of Crestwood. They make it through the first few chapters of the story before Nataliya’s sleepiness starts to get the better of her, but the story and the experience itself are both so new and exciting that she doesn't want to stop. Josephine keeps reading, her voice steady, only stopping briefly to catch her breath and drink some water.

    When she eventually closes the book, four chapters in, Nataliya buries her face in Josephine’s shoulder. “You’re good at this,” she says, soaking in the comfort and happiness of the moment.

    “Father liked me to read to him while he worked in the studio, before I started taking on more of the running of the estate,” she explains, setting the book down on the side table and stretching her shoulders. Both women stand up, untangling themselves from each other and briefly straightening up some of the room. 

    Glancing down at the book on the table, Nataliya smirks, “Maybe I do like reading, as long as someone else is doing it.” Josephine laughs, leaning over to kiss her cheek. She starts to gather up her things, leaving the book so they'll have it again later, but Nataliya reaches out and gently grabs her arm.

    “Stay with me tonight?” she asks softly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Startled for a moment, Josephine nods, stepping close to wrap her arms around Nataliya.

    “I'd love to,” she says. She finds a nightdress of her own folded in one of the drawers, left over from a previous night’s stay, and changes as Nataliya moves around to put out the various candles they have lit. They curl into bed together, cold feet and warm hips, Josephine tucking her head gently under Nataliya’s chin. Sleep comes on slowly for both of them, but neither is bothered: holding each other close is something they both crave, something they get far too little of with the hole in the sky. The wind whistles around the corners of the building, and they eventually both drift off, gentle smiles gracing both their faces.


End file.
